Double Act
by Phantomrox87
Summary: When an imposter frames Erik for murdering a child, he views himself as a monster. Based of off Phantom of the Opera, inspired by the music of Beauty and the Beast Broadway .  HIATUS  Rated T for safety
1. Chapter 1

I saw that monster standing there, holding her child. I cried out to that brute, begging him to let the little one go. He turned to me, and smirked, half of his face hidden behind a milky white mask like my own. Menacingly, he slipped a lasso over the toddler's neck, against his screams of protest. He tightened the rope that was around the poor child's neck, face turning red as he cut off the innocent child's life. Leaving the limp body where it was, he started off, ignoring my painful cries of agony. He mounted the stairs to the opera house, and with a flourish of his cape, disappeared, leaving me to be the vile creature blamed with murder.

The year was Eighteen Seventy. Christine Daae, the delicate flower I was obsessed with. A beauty in the arms of a beast. I had her in my clutches. All I needed was to pull the rope. If I had been the animal that I thought I was, I would have killed her prince, but I did not. I could have kept Christine to myself; I could have been a thorn. Yet, somehow, I willed myself to let her go, living the rest of my life suffering without my rose, the center of my life.


	2. Chapter 2

Time, the cruelest of all punishments. The slowest, most precious moments seem to slip by in the blink of an eye. And when time seems to be moving so quickly you can't comprehend, it freezes. Every second dripping past in agony. One hour seems like a day, dripping by, ever so slowly. People screaming, yelling the cruelest things, makes one realize how hated he really is. Handcuffs, cold metal touching my skin. The way people see my heart. Solid, cold, metal. A thorn in a sea of flowers.

Prison. Bars, holding me back, keeping me, this monster, away from the world. Like my childhood. In a cage, lonely. Locked in this unforgiving world, alone. I have learned to be lonely my whole life. The past few years, however, made me come to think I was loved. Crazy thoughts filled my head, making me believe that this cold, empty, heartless beast could ever be accepted in the world. I cannot change. The person who killed Christine's son has showed me that. No matter what, I will never be loved; I will never be blessed. This twisted face shows the world that I am a demon, both inside and out. I cannot change, no matter what they have said.

XXXXX

I stood in the center of my forlorn domain. The beauty that my labyrinth once was, destroyed. A desolated reminder that only a few short days ago I was being hunted down. Christine and Raoul were able to convince the populace that I was good. I had changed. God had given me a soul; I had let them go free, and therefore I must be good. The managers of the opera house allowed me to move back in, given I did not cause any more trouble. It seems that if one repents to the church, the crimes he has committed, no matter how large, are forgiven. Piangi's and Buquet's deaths faded into obscurity, and I was able to continue living out my life in the safety of the bowels of the opera house.

Touching a piece of glass from my mirror, I sobbed. A scarlet bubble appeared on my finger. The only color in this bland reality of life.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Phantom?" a timid voice called, echoing over the cavernous walls, "Monsieur, I have something of yours."

I stayed still, hoping that the little mouse, Meg Giry, would leave me in solitude once she realized I was not advancing towards her. Instead, her slipper covered feet padded over to me, nearly silent.

I flinched as she touched me. Gently, she took my hands, and placed my mask in them. The ruby blood smeared it, the smallest hint that this milky white mask used to be part of my life.

"This is a strange home," the girl commented quietly. "I never knew a home could be so dark and cold. Home should have some heart in it. Don't take this the wrong way, Monsieur, but I feel like your heart is far away, and not here."

I turned and looked at her, surprised when she did not scream at my hideous face. "This room does not have a heart, but I still need to find something good in this empty space. It may be tragic, but I will give anything to return to the life I've known lately."

The glimmer of a smile appeared on her face. "I think we all would Monsieur. I think we all would."


	3. Chapter 3

Shouts of hatred do not reach my mind. My dream has died, it's a loss illusion. I can see the crowds of people gathering under my window, yelling cold words to me. I have locked myself into a state of my own. I cannot hear their shouts. I do not feel the wind blowing through the barred window. All there is to live for, my life being normal, has died with Christine's child. Sitting in the dark, I realize the comforting cold of the black night is my only friend. The music of the night is more powerful than anything, including me. If I stay and rot in this empty space for my life, I know the serene ink that fills the sky will always be with me. Let them build higher walls around me. They can change every lock and key. Nothing can hold all as me as long as there is nightfall. My heart lives in the sky, circling the earth at dusk and not resting until sunrise. My dismal life will never fade as long as there is music and night. My heart is far away right now, home and free.

XXXX

The blonde little mouse came to visit with me often. At first it was only for a few minutes a week, but as time dragged on, she would spend longer intervals of time with me. She would come, alone, in the middle of the night, carrying only a candle for light. I had a few candles of my own scattered around my domain, but I preferred to stay in the shadows and away from the light when possible. Meg, however, clung to her light as if she would die without it. I quickly realized she was frightened of the silky shade I was accustomed to.

One night, when it was particularly dark, she asked me "Monsieur is this home? For you, I mean?"

I smiled, faintly. "Yes, it is." I replied softly, watching her eyes behind her flickering life line.

"I never dreamt that a home could be dark and cold. Every day, my mother told me that when we grow old, home will be where the heart is. How can your heart be so cold, Monsieur?"

"My heart is not home in this empty space. It is at home up above us, in the opera house. But no fool will let a beast like me in there. So I solve my problems the best I can, and live under the opera." I said, putting thought into my words, "My life has been altered already. It can always change again. Nothing lasts. Therefore home can change."

The blonde angel nodded to herself. "I am sure that if the gentlemen who run the theater saw how kind you are they will let you in." she replied, with the sincerity only a young woman could have.

I laughed, the brutal sound filling the empty shell of a room. "They will not Meg. Trust me. Once a monster, always a monster. They would attack with pitchforks and fire."

Meg stared at me, and then changing subjects, asked, "Monsieur, you know my name, but I do not know yours. Can you tell me?"

"Meg, my name is Erik. I do not know my last name. My mother sold me to the carnival when I was still a mere babe, just because of my face."

"You poor man!" she cried, flinging herself at me and embracing me in a loving, warm, firm grip. I ran my fingers down her silky smooth hair. Light and dark intertwined.


	4. Chapter 4

Dragged from a cell; thrown into a barred carriage. Taken to God knows where. A broken body, left in a pile of rotting straw to be carted away forever. Kicked out of the carriage; half carried, half forced to the judge. Verdict passed, guilty of murder. Christine pleaded on my behalf. Claiming I was still good, that somehow I was misled. Sentence passed. Instead of death, ten years in prison, a light sentence for someone of my type. Dragged from the room; my precious angel sobbing.

Days drip by here, no sense of time. Hay as a bed, a solitary window for light, and a corner for a bathroom; this is my lot in life. Two meals a day, gruesome, horrid food, not fit for a human to digest. And yet I gulp the mush down greedily. Rats as my only companions. How long must this go on? I do not know how much longer of this everlasting darkness I can bear. Long ago, the dark was my life. Now it is a burden, weighing down upon me, threatening to kill.

XXXX

Day after day, week after week, my blonde beauty comes to visit me. Who knew such a monster could find happiness. My cold labyrinth soon flourished with light, becoming a real home. Together, we built a fireplace, brick by brick. A warm fire soon glowed there every waking second. For what seemed like ages, we would sit and talk and laugh. And then, all too quickly, our time shattered as she returned to her mother and to the living world.

"Erik," she called out into my cavernous living space, her delightful voice ringing off the walls. I was lounging on the red plush velvet of my bed cover, running my figure over the figurine I had made of Christine long ago. She sat besides me, watching me twirl the little doll in my hands.

"Let it be, Erik." she whispered, gently taking the doll from me and setting it on the foot of the bed. In its place, she placed a brown paper package.

"What is it?" I asked, bewildered. I had never received a gift before, and the lumpy bulk of the package gave no indication of what could be inside.

I glanced over at her, and she laughed. "Open it." she cried out in joy, helping my hands untie the package.

Inside laid a book; King Arthur to be precise.

"I thought you might enjoy some company when I'm not around. Books have always been my closest friends-"

"Closer than Christine?"

"Yes, closer than Christine. Here, read it. You'll like it."

"I… I c-can't read…" I murmured, blushing profusely.

She looked at me, a pang of sadness appearing in those perfect blue eyes. After a moment's hesitation she smiled ever so slightly, only a corner of her mouth rising. She took the book from me and opened it.

"Well this is the perfect book to read aloud. Come here, sit by me."

And so our everyday stories began.

For a week, she would read to me for an hour, and then I would try to read back what she had read.

"Knowing not that this was indeed the legendary sword called Excalivar, Arthur tried to pull it from the stone. He tried once, to no avail. He tried a second time but still he could not pull it out. Then for the third time Arthur drew forth the sword an-"

"So that must mean he's the king!" I cried out, unable to contain myself.

Meg grinned and chuckled "Wait and see!"

I smiled back at her. "I never knew books could do that."

"Do what?" she asked, her smile fading.

"Take me away from this place." I explained solemnly, "Let me forget, for a little while."

"I know how you feel. Up there, in the opera house, I am considered queer. I read, I want to go off to University, I want to travel the world, I'm friends with you…" her voice trailed away. "What I mean to say is I know how it feels to be different… For the third time Arthur drew forth the sword and there arose from the people a great shout. Arthur is king."

I laughed, bouncing on the bed ever so lightly, like a child. "Told you so."

Time went on and Meg taught me to read and I grew to enjoy it. The words formed sentences and the sentences formed magical lands that could transport me from my dull existence. Reading became almost as much as a comfort as singing was; it fed my soul. One day, about three months after Meg and I had begun our reading lessons, she came in with Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. My reading had excelled and she insisted on bringing me challenging books. She handed the book over and plopped down on the edge of my bed, our designated reading space.

"I have great new!" she said cheerfully, stretching out on the covers, arms laid out behind her head.

"What is it?" I asked, lying next to her, on my side, stroking her sun-kissed hair.

"Christine and Raoul are getting married and I am to be the maid of honor!" she said giddy with excitement. I however was not pleased.

"Christine…"

"Yeah, she and Raoul. I think they're absolutely adorable together. And they're holding it on the stage here. It will be so beautiful." she sighed romantically.

Rage boiled up inside of me. How dare my angel abandon me for that… that… fop. I couldn't control my self. "GET OUT!" I bellowed, striking Meg. She fell, crying, but I paid no heed to her sobs. "GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!"

Meg stood quickly, and ran out of my cavern, leaving Frankenstein on the floor. I shook with anger and sorrow all at once. How could I have hit my precious Meg?

I slumped to the ground, clutching the book to my chest. "I simply made one carless wrong decision" I murmured in the darkness of my soul. Tears streamed down my face. "Hated. Is there no one who can show me how to win the worlds forgiveness?" 


	5. Chapter 5

Death. I want it. I need it. This is no life. Guards sneer in my direction as I huddle in the corner of my cell. It's been five years. I'm nearly forgotten. I've had various cell mates over the past years. Each one thrown in, waiting for execution, then dragged out. The next one is thrown in and the cycle continues. If there's a God, I hope he hears me. I want out of this place. I want my death to come. I do not care if it is while I'm sleeping in my cell or if by some miracle the court decides to kill me off. Year after year in this dismal space, I can't take it. I need to die, or see my angel. This is what my life depends on.

XXXX

I hadn't been expecting myself to show up for Christine's wedding. I had been planning on working on my music, or reading, or something else. Instead I took a walk, and just wear did my walk lead me, the catwalk. I stopped to watch the wedding, Christine stared at Raoul lovingly. God, how I wish she had looked at me that way when she had been mine. Standing to the side of Christine was Meg, holding a bouquet. Dear God was she beautiful. She wasn't as mature as Christine, but she was demure and poised, much less wild than Christine. Her blonde hair was hanging loosely, held back by a ribbon. A black ribbon. I found it odd how she was wearing black at a wedding, but then I noticed that she kept glancing up at the catwalk. My mouse had thought of me, she had worn my color! I started crying when she smiled up in my direction. I nodded to her, smiling, and continued to watch the wedding from my hidden spot.

After the wedding guests have left, and Christine and Raoul head off to enjoy their wedding night, I spend my time reading, not expecting Meg to visit me after this long and exhausting day. I felt someone put their arms around me and I jumped. Meg's soft voice whispered in my ear, "You came to the wedding."

I nodded, holding her hands close to my chest. "Meg," I murmured, "I am so sorry for… hurting you. My anger, it got the better of me."

She came around to face me. "It is okay." she said softly. "You love her."

I shook my head. "No. I loved her. I realized today I have a new love." My body began to tremble a bit, petrified of my next step.

Meg looked at me confused. "Who?" she asked softly.

"You." I pressed my lips against hers. A fiery sensation quaked through my body. She kissed back, intensely, passionate. This was not a pity kiss like what I shared with Christine. This was love. Becoming more intense, I pulled Meg onto my bed. She did not protest when I hiked up her skirt; on the contrary, she helped me unbuckle my belt. I pushed my way into her body, linking each other together. Heat pulsed through our bodies as we made love. And then, my timid mouse fell asleep in my arms.


End file.
